Speak No Evil
by LetsSingtheDoomSong
Summary: Amber Donovan works closely with the girl. And dreams of another in an underwater city. Kinda a spin off of See All Evil except with her 'seeing' Jamie's world in her dreams due to her exposure to the Lutece device.


Dymond: Welcome, welcome! To Speak No Evil, sort of a sequel to See All Evil, but not really. This delves into Bioshock Infinite and alternate realities and whatnot. Jamie is still Jamie, but renamed Amber Donovan due to Ian Donovan meeting someone in Columbia instead of Dusky who goes to Rapture. Alternate realities. It was Dusky who picked the name Jamie, so it is only fair that I do a slight name change.

In this Amber experiences 'dreams' where she experiences Jamie's Rapture through Jamie's eyes and retains some attributes like her sharp perception skills and muscle memory. Kind of like the Bleeding Effect from Assassin's Creed minus the whole brain-damage-possible-coma bit.

And please remember I am in no way of physicist. Nor am I a doctor, but I will research as much as possible for what I need. I definitely wouldn't be a security guard if I did.

Onward my pretties. We'll see where this goes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Squiggles wants to study quantum physics)

_The creature loomed over me, single porthole a foreboding color of red. My legs, which I had no control over, kicked at the floor frantically trying to put some distance between myself and the creature. I could feel the pain of a broken arm, but I couldn't move my head to look down at it. All I knew was that it was pressed against my stomach not to shield the arm, but to shield my abdomen. My other hand scrambled behind me for some sort of weapon._

_The creature let out an unholy screech like something straight out of hell and leapt at me. I couldn't contain my scream as I felt something snap inside my stomach. The feeling of lose and sorrow flooded me as the elongated needle stabbed into my stomach. "NO!"_

I shot up inhaling sharply covered in a cold sweat. My hands scrambled for the edge of my nightgown until I managed to yank it up to expose my stomach. There was no puncture wound, not even a scar lay there – perfectly unblemished and nothing out of the ordinary. I let the nightgown drop again and flopped back against my pillow.

I had no idea where these dreams came from, but they felt _way_ too real. Every time… I had no control over where I went, but whoever did manipulate the strings knew exactly where to go and what to do, while I myself would be clueless. Like looking through a window into someone else's life. Only it wasn't someone else's life, it was mine, but not mine. Everything about the body I inhabited in the dream screamed "Amber Donovan", but it wasn't me who controlled it nor did the name "Amber" fit with this other being. The name "Jamie" has come up several times, but whether or not this is my name is uncertain.

Sighing, I yanked the pillow out from under me and pressed it against my face to contain my frustration. These dreams had been preventing me from getting a decent night's sleep and making me exhausted and agitated. My father had started to notice as did my mother who normally didn't care for anything I did. The bags under my eyes were getting darker and 'un-lady-like' as my mother – Catherine – rants.

The sun cracked through the blinds of my window. No point in going back to sleep now. I got up and rang the bell attached to the wall near my door. Within moments my door open and Abigail stepped through. "Good morning, my lady. You're up early," She greeted with an unforced smiled unlike other servants I had seen.

I liked to think we treated her better than most others did. Not only that, she was one of my few true friends in this city where the wrong word could get you shunned and your family humiliated. God forbid you don't share the same ideals as the city founders. "Couldn't sleep," I answered and allowed her to start preparing a bath for me while I decided what I was going to wear for the day.

Laying out the necessary undergarments took very little time, while deciding on a dark purple skirt that sat high on my waist and a white button up blouse. A blue neck-tab would complete the ensemble. The thought of trousers made me frown in displeasure – I pushed the thought away and retreated into the bathroom once Abigail gave the call that my bath was ready.

Stripping, I sank into the welcomed heat of the water and Abigail left to get the family breakfast prepared. I looked down at my arms; thin and lightly tanned – not scarred heavily with lean muscle hiding under pale skin nor marred with the word ATLAS. That was one thing that always threw me off: the muscle build of the person in my dreams. I came out of those dreams feeling like I could scale the side of my home without breaking a sweat, but when I try I fail and get yelled at by my mother. While I lacked the strength, my hands knew where to grab when I could get somewhat up the wall. Muscle Memory, they called it.

The smell of sausage and eggs wafted up to my room luring me out of the bathtub. I dressed in a hurry and nearly ran down the stairs to join my family for breakfast. My father greeted me warmly while Catherine sat with her back straight and her hands folded neatly in her lap. Catherine was not my father's choice of woman to marry, but when my grandparents sent him to Columbia I was told that there was another woman in my father's life named Dusky. Strange name, but it reminded me of Jamie in my dreams arguing with someone named of the same name.

Abigail served our meals quickly and diligently under my mother's scrutinizing gaze. My mother's dislike for the servant almost made me sick, but I held my tongue. Breakfast was enjoyed – word loosely used – in relative silence, my father making the occasional comment about Abigail outdoing herself this time and making the dark skin of the young woman flush with the praise. My mother's upturned nose would always cause the flush to disappear, the poor girl.

Abigail collected my plate despite my slight protest once I was finished and I quickly went to retrieve my satchel. My father met me at the front door and kissed my forehead. "Have a wonderful day, darling," He said handing me my sunhat.

I nodded and opened the door letting the breeze brush past my long brown hair before placing the sunhat atop my head.

Despite everything, Columbia was a beautiful utopia that I called home. The Prophet Zachary Comstock led us with a firm, but gentle hand through the endless days and avoiding the Sodom Below. Many loved and revered him while others didn't seem to care, like myself. I tried my best to avoid debates over matters in Columbia. Keyword: tried. Sometimes I couldn't avoid it as the gossiping busybody women lured me in. I knew better at times, but I wanted to live like the rest.

Like my colleagues, I didn't converse much with the common rabble, but then again we were men and women of science. I was one truly lucky enough to work in the same space as the Lutece "Twins". Robert was nice enough while Rosalind seemed to not grasp the basics of human contact other than with her "brother", as they were keen on telling people. She didn't speak much to me except asking me for a tool that was out of her reach or if she dropped her pen on the floor.

Robert was the only one who would ask me for my input, not that it mattered much. I think he did it to allow me to feel like I'm involved, but I was no fool to know that he didn't really need my input or for the matters of the medical field and study. Robert and Rosalind would bounce ideas off each other while I sat off to the side feeling slightly out of place.

I was one of the few people who knew that Robert wasn't in fact Rosalind's brother, but her male counterpart from a different reality and it was I that used Rosalind to keep him alive long enough to recover from crossing the veil between our worlds. Along with knowing this fact, I knew about Elizabeth and along with that knowledge was the threat of death should this secret get out. It was hard to believe it was only 6 years ago. I was brought on to the project due to my extensive study on the human body which Rosalind felt was necessary to catalogue the effect of their contraption on the human body to prevent unnecessary damage. I still held my medical license, but it didn't go far beyond the Lutece Labs. All before I even turned 22. Now, I'm 28 years old and still under the wings of the Luteces. I like to think that they've grown fond of me to simply toss me out to do my work elsewhere.

Opening the door to the Lutece Labs, I was shoved face first into the front door by a furious and looking completely homicidal Lady Comstock. Zachary Comstock was a regular visitor of the place, but Lady Comstock coming here was both a shock and it was quick to realize that Lady Comstock was the epitome of a hurricane of pure blind fury. "Why does my husband see you?! Where did this child come from?! You… YOU WHORE!" I heard Lady Comstock shriek, advancing on Rosalind no doubt since she was the only other female here. There was a loud bang followed by the screech of a table moving across the floor violently.

Rushing in, I became witness to Lady Comstock within centimeters of Rosalind's face while Robert chose to ignore the exchange holding a cloth to his nose where it became apparent that Lady Comstock had shoved him out of the way and into a table. Rosalind herself remained relatively unscathed, standing stoically and taking the brunt of Lady Comstock's rage.

Quietly, as to not turn Lady Comstock's rage on myself, I made my way over to Robert whispering for him to tilt his head back allowing me to remove the cloth without his nose gushing blood. Hell hath no fury… Thankfully, his nose was only a little red and unbroken and it was only his previous afflictions that caused this nosebleed to occur. Placing the cloth more firmly against his nostrils, I allowed for his head return to its original position.

I gently raised an eyelid, checking his pupil dilation for any signs of a possible concussion. Other than the mark on his forehead starting to form, he was fine.

"I assure you, madam, that my sexual interest in your dear Prophet is non-existent," Rosalind stated factually which was true. I had witnessed the child being brought through the tear, but someone must have failed to inform Lady Comstock of this. "Furthermore, the man is quite sterile." Also true, I confirmed this with a medical examination performed on the Prophet in the home after his numerous attempts to bring forth a child with Lady Comstock. He was quite upset over the ordeal resulting, at first, in accusing me of being wrong and inept in my field, but eventually he listened. This resulted in Elizabeth being brought into our world.

"That's a lie," the fury-driven woman hissed. "Come and get your little bastard! I want her out of my house!"

"Madam, the child was a product of our contraption with our interaction with an alternate reality," Rosalind explained briefly so that someone of Lady Comstock's caliber could understand.

The mentioned woman took that news with more flying accusations, nearly blaming me at one point since Rosalind strictly denied mothering the child and I was the only other female Father Comstock interacted with. I was thankful Robert responded with a heavy dose of sarcasm that both defended me and insulted my sexual capabilities. I didn't know whether to be thankful for his intervention or insulted.

Lady Comstock did eventually leave once she realized she was going to get no confession out of myself and Rosalind. "Obnoxious," Rosalind stated after the door slammed shut knocking a picture of the representation of an atom off the wall. "Brother, are you well?"

"Quite well for someone who had his face slammed into a table."

"Perhaps it improved your facial structure."

"Perhaps it would show that you need to be more sympathetic."

"Which would be a blatant lie."

"Or the truth."

"No, a lie."

Watching them playfully bicker made my head spin on occasion, but often the exchanges were humorous. "I will tell one truth though," Rosalind said as her attention turned to me. "I apologize that Lady Comstock believed you were the mother of the girl."

The rest of the day went by uneventful. Robert's nose had stopped bleeding thankfully and I was left to read the vitals taken from the girl earlier that day before the fiasco with Lady Comstock. The day was coming to a close, so I gathered up what charts I still needed to view and packed them neatly into my satchel.

I never say goodbye to the Luteces because: 1. they would never hear me and 2. If they did hear me, they would never return the gesture. I had all but given up on the endeavor of having a social relationship with the two brilliant physicists. I locked the front door behind me knowing fully well that they would _forget_ (see: working until unconsciousness). I nearly didn't see little Constance ducking behind a trash bin, trying to avoid being caught watching the Lutece building like a hawk. I had found her voxophone addressed to Rosalind and had delivered it to the physicist. I was unaware if she listened to it or not.

I shook my head at Constance's shy behavior and continued on, letting my thoughts wander again to the effects of solitude on the girl and most of all to the girl in my dreams. Maybe I was being affected by the Luteces' contraption allowing me to see myself in another time and in a world where I didn't come to Columbia and instead went to Rapture. It wasn't all that impossible with the things I've seen done in the name of science. It was much to get my head around since I was not a quantum physicist like my colleagues. I was merely a doctor.

I ate dinner in silence with my family before retiring to my room for the night. Another day and another restless sleep filled with dreams of the underwater city.


End file.
